


cursed by the love that i received

by juliet_oscar



Series: blessed be the mystery of love [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Getting Back Together, M/M, New York
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliet_oscar/pseuds/juliet_oscar
Summary: This is my take on the whole 'Elio moving to New York and them getting back together' thing. This is set the fall before blackbird on my shoulder.He flew into JFK yesterday. Oliver had offered to meet him there, but Elio said he’d manage on his own. Oliver’s stomach twists at the thought of seeing him again. It probably was just as well to keep their meeting more private, not surrounded by lovers joyfully reuniting at the gates.Oliver glances at his watch. Elio is not late yet, but he’s cutting it close.’He probably doesn't even want to see you. His parents probably put him up to this,’ Oliver thinks, shaking his head.





	1. Chapter 1

Oliver had received the call last spring. Elio, hesitant and unsure, informed him that he was moving to New York. He would be studying music at NYU starting in the fall. Oliver’s chest had tightened at the thought of seeing him again. There was so much he wanted to say but didn’t. He didn’t want to make a mess of this call like he had done at Christmas.  
He congratulated him and asked that he let Oliver know when he was moving to the city so they could have dinner. He offered to show him the city and help him adjust.  
Now here he is sitting at a restaurant downtown, waiting for Elio to arrive.  
He flew into JFK yesterday. Oliver had offered to meet him there, but Elio said he’d manage on his own. Oliver’s stomach twists at the thought of seeing him again. It probably was just as well to keep their meeting more private, not surrounded by lovers joyfully reuniting at the gates.  
Oliver glances at his watch. Elio is not late yet, but he’s cutting it close.  
’He probably doesn't even want to see you. His parents probably put him up to this,’ Oliver thinks, shaking his head.  
That is when Elio walks into the restaurant. It is not a large place, and he looks so small in the press of people around the door.  
Oliver stands to greet him. They hug briefly. Elio gives him a tight smile.  
Oliver tries to make this better, make this normal.  
’So, you made it alright. How was your flight?’  
They exchange awkward pleasantries through the meal. How are your parents? How’s Columbia? When do you start school? They both carefully skirt the topic they desperately want to address.  
Sitting with their after-dinner coffees, they find themselves in uncomfortable silence, as if they have run out of words.  
Oliver doesn't know what to say. I’m sorry? I wish everything could go back to how it was? I wish I never left? I wish I hadn’t told you I was engaged over the phone?  
Elio seems to pick up on this last thought.  
’So, how’s the wife?’ His tone aims for jocular but misses the mark. It comes out pained, almost fearful.  
’She’s not,’ he replies. Elio looks him, furrowing his brows. ’She’s not my wife; I’m not married.’  
’I thought you were getting married in the spring?’ Elio asks tentatively.  
’We were, but we didn’t,’ he sighs, ’I broke it off.’  
At first, he thinks the look in Elio’s eyes is excitement but quickly recognizes it as sorrow and a touch of anger.  
’Why didn’t you say anything?’ Elio asks without looking up from his cup of coffee, ’You called me at Christmas and told me you were engaged, and then you call it off and say nothing?’ a sob catches at the back of his throat.  
’I didn’t want to make you think…’ he starts.  
’You didn’t want to make me think, what? That you cared about me, that this mattered?’  
Elio’s accusations sting. None of this is going how it was supposed to go.  
’Of course, I care about you, god Elio,’ he scrubs his hand over his face. Suddenly this restaurant is too stuffy, too packed. ’Can we go for a walk?’  
He doesn’t wait for an answer, he stands a walks to the door, Elio trailing behind.  
When they make it outside, he turns to Elio and frantically tries to explain, ’That wasn’t what I meant at all. You know that, right?’ Elio is silent.  
’Oh, god it wasn’t.’ He glances around. He really doesn’t want to be doing this on the street.  
’Come to my place? Please, let me explain. I need to tell you everything, and I just want it to be us, please,’ he sounds desperate, but he needs Elio to understand.  
The younger man nods warily. He’s on his guard, but at least he said yes.  
Oliver walks them to his apartment on West 9th. He had a place uptown, by Columbia but that went with everything else.  
He opens the door to his building ushering Elio inside and up the stairs.  
As he follows him up the three flights to his apartment, Oliver aches to touch him. The little sliver of ankle visible between the cuff of his jeans and his shoes, the way his hips swing as he ascends, the way the lights of the stairwell halo his curls; it’s all-consuming. He wants to kiss those feet, press his thumbs into those hips, and bury his face in that hair.  
He chastises himself for the thought. Elio deserves better; he deserves an explanation without any expectations.  
He catches Elio’s wrist when they arrive at the third floor.  
’This is me,’ he says, ducking his head toward the apartment door.  
Once inside Elio glances around cautiously, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. He turns to Oliver spreading his arms slightly, looking at him but refusing to meet his eyes.  
’Sit, please. Do you want anything to drink?’ Oliver asks desperately trying to sound casual.  
’I’m fine,’ he replies, looking everywhere but at Oliver.  
All Oliver wants is a glass of wine, or maybe scotch, to cling to during this conversation but if Elio isn’t drinking he shouldn’t either.  
He settles himself awkwardly next to Elio on the couch.  
Elio looks at him, finally meeting his eyes. He merely raises his eyebrows and waits.  
’Last winter, when I said remembered all of it, I was telling the truth. I remember every moment of that summer,’ Oliver begins, ’I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you. And I realized that was not the case with her. I practically forgot her the moment I stepped foot into that house. I wasn’t sure if I could marry someone like that. It had nothing to do with her, she was wonderful. But could I really commit to spending my life with someone I so quickly put to the side, when other,’ he pauses, ’options presented themselves?’  
Oliver looks at Elio hoping to see a sign of understanding, but his face is unreadable.  
’I couldn’t get this thought out of my head. I agonized over it for more than a month. Finally, in February I told her I couldn’t marry her. I didn’t give any reasons. She was upset, but she didn’t seem surprised. My father was less than pleased but,’ he makes a casual gesture with his hand, ’I’m here now. It took awhile for us to disentangle our lives but it’s been alright for the past few months.’  
They both pause for a beat and then Elio says, ’But why…’ he doesn’t finish the sentence, but Oliver know what it was going to be.  
’I didn’t want you to think that I broke off my engagement for you. It wasn’t like that. There were a million reasons it didn’t work out, you merely helped me understand that. I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me something or that I expected something from you,’ at this, he grips Elio’s hand in his own and looks him in the eye, ’because I don’t. I want you to be happy. You’re going to meet so many incredible people and do so many incredible things, and I don’t want you weighed down by a feeling of obligation to me.’  
They sit there on his couch, hands clasped. Elio breaks the moment by pressing his forehead into Oliver’s shoulder. He buries his face there for a moment and then tilts his head to look up at Oliver through his lashes, his eyes welling with tears.  
’But do you want me?’ he asks, his voice muffled by its proximity to Oliver’s shirt.  
’What?’  
’Do you want me, Oliver?’ he says plainly, ’because I want you. That’s all I want, all I've ever wanted.’  
And god, Oliver has never wanted anyone more in his life. He wants to shout, 'Of course, how could I not?' He wants to list every perfect detail of Elio to make him understand how he loves every aspect of him. Instead, he cups his cheek and brings their lips together.  
Pulling away he asks, ’Are you sure?’  
Elio nods into his hand, ’I worship you, Oliver.’  
He curls his fingers into the hair at the back of Oliver’s neck, bringing their faces together again.  
This is everything Oliver wanted so desperately but didn't dare to hope for. He is overcome by the comforting warmth the envelopes him when in such close proximity to the other man.  
A moment later Elio rises to kneel on the couch, without breaking contact, he presses close and positions himself with one leg on either side of Oliver’s lap.  
Oliver presses his hands to his hips, grounding him. He never wants to move from this spot.  
Eventually, he lifts his hands and begins to remove Elio’s jacket roughly. Once it hits the floor, he slides his hands up his ribs, under his shirt.  
Elio groans into Oliver’s mouth and begins to unbutton his green button down. Oliver shoulders his way out of the sleeves.  
When he breaks away from Elio to remove the younger man’s shirt, he realizes that he’s crying. He brings his hands to Elio’s face and uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears.  
’It’s okay; I’m here. I’m right here,’ he wraps his arms around Elio and pulls his body flush with his own.  
Elio presses their foreheads together and lets out a shaky breath.  
’I know, I know,’ he says as if trying to convince himself before kissing him again.  
Oliver is filled with aching want again. He cannot get Elio close enough to him. He wants desperately to be inside him.  
He grips the backs of Elio’s thighs and moves toward the edge of the couch. Elio understands immediately and wraps his legs around Oliver’s waist.  
He makes it to the hall before he has to lower Elio’s feet to the floor. Keeping their faces together he shuffles them into the bedroom.  
They stumble a bit over the mess on the floor, but they manage to make it to the bed.  
Oliver pushes Elio back on the bed and straightens to undo his belt and kick off his pants. Elio moves to do the same with his own.  
And then their bodies are pressed together on the bed.  
Oliver knows this isn’t going to last long. They are both desperate and needy, but it feels so right to be here with him again. He stutters his own name against Elio’s lips.  
Elio tips his head back and moans, ’Elio.’ 

…..

After, Oliver disentangles their legs and lies next to Elio staring at the ceiling. He turns on his side to face him. Elio is still laying on his back, but his face is turned towards him. Oliver can see the tear tracks running down his face.  
Cupping his cheek, he says, ’I’m sorry.’  
Elio sniffles into the pillow and brings a hand to rub his eyes. Then he looks Oliver in the eye and shakes his head emphatically. He says nothing, just turns to bring them nose-to-nose. He closes his eyes. Oliver leans forward and kisses each lid. He can feel those beautiful eyes flutter against his lips.  
He stands and walks to the bathroom for a towel. After wiping himself down, he turns to Elio who is looking drowsily up at him from the bed. He tosses him the towel, and the younger man cleans himself off.  
’You’re going to have to get up,’ Oliver says which earns him a groan from Elio, ’You’re going to get awfully cold sleeping like that.’  
Elio grudgingly rises just long enough for Oliver to pull back the sheets.  
They both settle comfortably under the soft duvet. Elio lies flat on his back, eyes closed in contentment. Oliver rests on his side facing him. He places one hand protectively on Elio’s stomach.  
Elio once told him he loved the feeling of his hand on his stomach, that it made him feel safe.  
There was nothing he wants more at that moment than for Elio to feel safe and secure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set the morning after chapter one, from Elio's point of view.

Elio wakes to find Oliver’s upper body curled around his own. When he opens his eyes all he can see is a shock of sandy hair resting on his chest. He loves when Oliver wraps himself around him in his sleep. He looks so soft and needy nuzzling into Elio’s chest.  
Elio feels the press of his bladder, remembering what woke him in the first place. He begins to try to extricate himself from Oliver’s limbs. The older man hums quietly and pulls him closer.  
’Stay,’ he mumbles, turning to press a kiss to Elio’s neck.  
That one word sends a rush of joy through Elio. Oliver’s half-asleep and is probably most concerned with losing his pillow, but it still makes Elio feel wanted, loved.  
’I’ll be back,’ he says kissing Oliver’s hair and standing up. Out in the hall, he glances around, the door to the bathroom is ajar. He notices the bathroom is organized and clean; if a bit bare.  
After he relieves himself, he pulls back the shower curtain, smelling Oliver's soap and shampoo. He's missed the smell of him so much. He looks at himself in the mirror, bearing his teeth. His mouth feels muzzy. He picks the red toothbrush out if the cup on the sink and applies the toothpaste he finds in the medicine cabinet. It feels so intimate to use his toothbrush. 

As he slips back into the bedroom, he sees that Oliver has rolled onto his stomach and dozed off once more. He sits carefully on the bed, not wanting to wake him. He bends over carefully and cards his fingers through the blonde waves of Oliver’s hair.  
He opens his eyes slowly.  
’Hi,’ Elio breathes.  
’morning,’ Oliver murmurs. He rolls to his side, wrapping his arm around Elio’s waist, and pulling him down to his level.  
He bumps their noses together, ‘God, you’re gorgeous.’  
Elio feels himself blush as Oliver takes his lower lip into his mouth.  
He cannot understand how it’s possible he got so lucky. How could Oliver, so confident and stunning and brilliant, want him of all people?  
Oliver releases his lip, ’Do you want breakfast? There’s a diner on the corner we can go to.’  
Elio nods, not realizing how hungry he is until now.  
He kisses Oliver briefly then stands and begins to hunt for his clothes.  
He is kneeling on the couch trying to grasp his shirt, which Oliver must have haphazardly thrown behind him last night because it was currently stuck between the back of the couch and the wall, when Oliver walks into the living room. He has changed into a light salmon colored shirt and tan trousers.  
’I thought you might want something fresh to wear,’ he says setting a folded shirt and briefs on the coffee table. ’You’ll probably have to wear your jeans from yesterday, though,’ he adds as an afterthought. 

Elio returns to the bedroom to dress. His heart skips at the idea of wearing Oliver’s clothes. He still wears billowy more than he cares to admit but it lost Oliver’s particular smell long ago. He buries his face in the shirt and inhales. He pulls it on and buttons it; then rolls the sleeves up to just below his elbows. Stepping into the briefs, he’s half-hard at the thought of Oliver’s cock in the same briefs. He knows this is ridiculous; they were naked in bed together not 10 minutes ago. But it’s like with the toothbrush; the intimacy is overwhelming. It also feels like a promise. If Elio leaves today wearing Oliver’s clothes that means Oliver expects him to be coming back.  
He slides into the living room, dancing a bit with excitement. Oliver is on the couch, feet up on the table. He beams as he stands, looking Elio up and down.  
After Elio slides on his shoes, he feels Oliver press up against him, crowding him up against the wall next to the door. With his back pressed against the wall, Elio smiles up at him. Oliver pulls lightly on the pale green shirt he has given him. At that moment he looks as if he could devour him, whole. He brings his mouth down to hover above Elio’s.  
His breath ghosting over his lips Oliver asks, ’Do you know what it does to me, seeing you in my clothes?’  
Elio shakes his head ever so slightly, mouth open, unwilling to turn his head away from the other man’s. Oliver rolls his hips against him so he can feel.  
For a moment Elio thinks he’s about to go to his knees and take him in his mouth. Instead, Oliver presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips before pushing off the wall.  
’Ready?’ he grins opening the door. 

The diner Oliver brings him to smells of greasy American breakfast foods. They take a booth, the green vinyl seats worn and cracked in places, the table a dingy laminate that may have once been white. They agree to order an assortment of foods to share.  
While they wait, Oliver slides his foot up and down Elio’s calf, as if he can’t bear to stop touching him.  
’So what’s the schedule for this week? Classes don’t start till after labor day, right?’ he asks.  
Elio nods, ’There’s some orientation stuff throughout the week. Tours, meet the faculty, and the like. But most of it is done by three or so.’  
’Good, they’re easing you into it. I…’ but he’s cut off by the arrival of the food.  
There are piles of eggs and potatoes. The toast is slick with butter, and the pancakes are fluffy and soft. Everything is coated in a layer of grease that leaves Elio’s mouth feeling oily. Mafalda would be horrified, but it’s so utterly American he can’t help but revel in it.  
After they finish, Oliver offers to walk Elio back to his dorm. They walk through Washington Square Park. Oliver tells him about how the arch started as a temporary installation marking the centennial of Washington’s inauguration before it was replaced with the more permanent stone arch a few years later. Elio could listen to him talk all day.  
When they arrive at his dorm on Mercer Elio leans against the wall of the building, Oliver stands at his side, facing him.  
’You’re out at three tomorrow?’ he asks. Elio nods.  
’Good. Come by after; I’ll make you dinner.’ He says it so casually as if there was no question they would see each other again the next day.  
Elio wishes he would kiss him but knows he won’t. Instead, Oliver intertwines their fingers loosely and uses his other arm to pull Elio into a half-hug, something that could be played off as platonic if they wanted.  
Too soon Olver releases him and steps back.  
’Later,’ he grins, before turning to walk back up Mercer.  
’Later,’ Elio sighs, and it feels like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I wrote this last week but only got around to posting it now because I was out of town. It's been a weird week, but I'm excited to get back to the boys. I will hopefully post something else in this series later this week.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was intended to alternate between their perspectives, but Oliver took over. I'm working on a morning after fic from Elio's point of view. These two will not get out of my head.


End file.
